


Club Arcana: Genesis 19:1

by babadook (remains), Maidservant_Hecubus



Series: Club Arcana [2]
Category: Borgias - Ambiguous Fandom, Vampires - Fandom, catholic church - Fandom
Genre: Bible Kink, Complete, Dark, Evil, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gothic, Horror, Imprisonment, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Murder, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Priest Kink, Psychological Torture, Roman Catholicism, Threats of Violence, Torture, forgive me Father for I have sinned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 23:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remains/pseuds/babadook, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maidservant_Hecubus/pseuds/Maidservant_Hecubus
Summary: Three years before 'Club Arcana: Death'A holy man steps into hell.





	Club Arcana: Genesis 19:1

**Author's Note:**

> This story, while we hope it is well written, is unashamedly nothing but an excuse for endless murder, blasphemy, and bloody smut. Read at your own Risk.
> 
> If you are so inclined, please check out the [aesthetic blog for Club Arcana](https://thatbloodyau.tumblr.com/) as well as the [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/i2sthqi0faz0oonw69rnhf4u0/playlist/1AzJipgv2JVLshphUm9NE1) to set the mood.
> 
> **CW:** It’s easier to list what will NEVER be in this story.  
> 

Desmond came to Club Arcana in the evening.

The new priest at St. Bartholomew’s cathedral had requested a meeting with Alia and to say she was intrigued would be the understatement of her life. Father Daly had called her personal assistant repeatedly, insisting on seeing her and  _only_  her. Alia was certain she had no public reputation beyond disinherited heiress and entrepreneur. Her devout belief in the catholic church saw her in a pew every Sunday and while she recognized the sour looking man she had no idea of why he would be looking for her.

Alia sat behind her mahogany desk, reviewing financial reports from the club as she waited for the Father’s arrival. Her eyes flicked up when she heard her door slide open right on time. She appreciated that and a smile touched her lips as the holy man stepped across her threshold.

“Good evening, Father Daly,” she greeted sweetly as she moved out from behind her desk to meet him.

“Madame d'Este,” he removed his wide brimmed hat and inclined his head causing the the heavy cross around his neck to sway. He offered no hand in greeting, keeping his arms folded against his chest. The woman was young, far younger than he would have thought given what he knew.

“Please, Father, simply Alia will do,” she insisted and gestured for him to have a seat on one of the black leather chairs. “Can I offer you a coffee? Tea? Something stronger?” a smile played on her lips as her maid stepped forward.

“No, thank you,” Desmond sat, his back ramrod straight as he made no attempts to find a comfortable position.

Alia silently dismissed the girl and perched across from him with her ankles crossed and her hands clasped together over her knees.

“Father,” she broke the silence that had fallen between them as the priest simply stared at her as if looking for something to show itself on her skin. “while I will always make time for anything the church may need from me, my time  _is_  valuable.”

“Yes, apologies Madame d'Este,” Desmond offered as he came back to himself and disregarded her request for less formality between them.

“As you know with Father Garrett’s unexpected absence I have been brought in to temporarily take up his duties at Saint Bartholomew’s.”

“Yes,” she nodded gravely, “I’ve missed seeing him in church on Sundays, it’s a shame he found himself in such sudden ill health.” Alia suppressed a smile at the image of the fat toad of a man, stripped naked and locked in one of her basement rooms as he babbled at the walls.

“Yes, he is sorely missed from what I understand,” Desmond nodded gravely. “which leads me to the reason for my visit. I was informed that Father Garrett was your personal confessor, in that he came here to take your confession when you were too, ahh,  incapacitated to attend services?”

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” her lips curled up in a smile.

Desmond nodded. The young woman before him seemed the picture of health. However she was the biggest patron of Saint Bartholomew’s and he was not one to question his instructions.

“I have been asked by Monsignor Singh to take over that service until Father Garrett has recovered.”

“Ohhh, have you?” Alia’s thin smile opened into a grin and she leaned forward with her head docked to the side. The new priest had finally piqued her interest.

“Yes, Madame,” he inclined his head.

“That’s simply delightful!” she chirped and leaned back in her seat.

“However,” Desmond continued, “there is a matter that I personally would like to bring to your attention.” his brows were knit in concern, he was toeing a delicate line here but he felt the need to do what he thought was right.

“Oh?” Alia arched a brow.

“Yes, Madam,” he nodded as his frown deepened, “This is delicate and I pray you forgive how close I am to violating the sanctity of confession.”

“Oh dear,” Alia touched her fingers to her breast. “I trust your judgement, Father.”

“Yes, well,” Desmond drew himself up, “some of the confessions I have heard have been…ahh, disturbing to say the very least and have me concerned enough that I felt the need to discuss the possibility of slander with you.”

Alia forced herself to frown, feigning shock and confusion. But her heart raced with excitement and there was a wild glint in her eyes.

“Father,” she said gravely, “are you implying there is a conspiracy to sully my name within the church?”

“Indeed, Madame, that is my concern.”

Alia unfolded her hands and drew her index finger across her lips, reminding herself not to smile.

“What could they possibly be saying?” she asked.

“It’s outrageous, really,” Desmond insisted, suddenly regretting even bringing such obvious nonsense up with the young woman.

“Please Father?” she begged with her brows knit together, the picture of confused innocence, “I’m no stranger to rumors and accusations in attempts to ruin me and I prefer to stay ahead of them where I can.”

“Ah, yes, I do understand,” Desmond nodded and shuffled his hat in his hands, “You see, several different persons have confessed to me that they have committed…” he paused and swallowed, taking a moment to think of the best way to phrase this, “gruesome acts that have been accommodated by you and your establishment.”

Alia stopped trying to suppress her grin.

Desmond relaxed at her expression and let out a soft laugh and a relieved smile of his own.

“I’m glad you aren’t taking this too poorly,” he sighed and sat back, “I had no suspicion it was true, but I did want you to be aware.”

“Oh but Father,” Alia laughed and leaned forward to place her hand on his knee, “It  _is_  true and I need to know who told you.”

Desmond blinked at her in confusion.

“Well I’m glad you find this amusing, but I do not.”

“Oh, it’s not funny in the least,” she assured him, her voice growing hard, “I need those names and you  _will_  give them to me unless you would like to join Father Garrett downstairs.”

“Enough of this!” Desmond sputtered and pushed up from the chair.

Alia sat back and watched him storm towards the door to her office. She was smiling again and absently twisting a lock of her short black hair in her fingers. She giggled as he tried to open the door and it didn’t budge. Desmond looked back at her outraged with colour rising up his neck.

“Open this door,” he demanded.

“No,” Alia laughed and stood, slowly sauntering after him.

Desmond turned his back on her again and pounded on the glass, yelling as he tried to get someone, anyone’s attention.

He had Alia’s full attention.

“Father, this is pointless,” she assured him as she came up next to him, “you are in  _my_  home. Nothing happens here that I do not want to happen. Now stop your tantrum and sit back down. You aren’t going anywhere at the moment.”

He looked down at her and she could see the anger he was using to mask the fear that had taken root, but he did not move. Alia’s hand darted out and she grabbed the chain of the cross that hung around his neck and tugged to bring him down to her eye level.

“I  _love_  the church, Father,” she spoke clear and sharp, “and I don’t wish to harm a  _holy_  man, but I will protect myself above all else. Now come sit.”

She lead him by the chain like a leash and returned him to the chair he had started in.

“What did you do with Father Garrett?” he asked. Desmond’s heart was racing and his blood pounded in his ears. “was he not holy in your eyes?”

“No,” Alia said sitting back down across from him. “Not in the end.”

Desmond opened his mouth  to ask ‘why’ but closed it again, the reality of his position slowly dawning on him.

“Believe me,” Alia looked grave, “God will not mourn his loss. But enough of that, Father!” her demeanor switched back to cheerful, almost giddy.

“The last mistake he made was not telling me the names of the persons who confessed to the services they paid for here,” she emailed gently at him, “but I know you are better than that, Father Daly, they are  _sinful_  men and I think you would very much like to see them punished for their ways.”

“And what of your roll in this?” he asked, “do you not see the sin in what you…facilitate?”

“Oh, Father,” she tittered, “I only present the temptation. Their sin is not mine if they choose to indulge it.   _And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell._ ” she quoted with a smirk and a slow blink at him.

The realization settled deep and hard in the pit of Desmond’s stomach that the woman before him was absolutely mad and had every resource at her disposal to indulge her delusions.

“So,” she continued, “I believe a holy man would want to see such sinners repent.”

“He would,” Desmond agreed. He had no choice but to agree. He valued his life and knew he would need to keep it if he had any hope of stopping this death factory.

“I knew you were a righteous man, Father,” she sighed happily, “I care deeply for the fate of my own soul and I would only trust it’s safe keeping to someone like you.”

“I am honored, Madame,” he managed.

“ _Father_ ,” she chided and shook her head, “don’t lie to me or I may have to reconsider.”

“Ah,” Desmond took a deep breath to steel himself for indulging her madness, “I am angry and frightened. I do not wish to he a party to this but I do not want to die.”

“Very good,” she leaned forward again to pat his knee, “I demand honesty, even if you think it’s something I don’t want to hear.”

Desmond only nodded in understanding although he still itched to run.

“Be not afraid,” she said softly, “you’re mine now and I will treasure you.” she held out her hand and smiled expectantly.

“Th-thank you, Madame,” Desmond eyed her hand and looked at her as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“ _Alia_ , please Father,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Madame sounds so damn  _old_.”

“Alia,” he conceded, “where do I go from here?”

“You will stay for dinner and we will discuss things further,” she said, “but first you will hear my confession.”

“I- yes, allright,” he nodded, grateful for the reassurance of something so normal and routine.

“Wonderful,” she stood up and Desmond made to do the same when she was suddenly far too close to him with her hand on his shoulder, pushing down to keep him seated.

Desmond looked up at her in silent confusion.

“Like this, Father,” she said.

Desmond was not prepared for the slight woman to climb onto him, straddling his lap and pressing her chest flush to his. He swallowed hard and pulled his head back to look at her.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“Temptation,” she smiled, inches from his face, “I require a righteous man and a righteous man will be able to turn his cheek or,” she danced her fingers up his chest, “pluck out his eye.“

He had nothing to say to that. All he could do was keep his hands firmly planted on the arms of the chair and will his body not to react to the woman pressed against him. He was suddenly very grateful for the oppressive robes he wore.

Alia smiled, pleased at his obedience. She draped her arms over his shoulders and leaned in so that her lips brushed his ear.

“ _Forgive me Father for I have sinned._ ”


End file.
